


Knighthood

by cortchuzska



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-11
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 02:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/534633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortchuzska/pseuds/cortchuzska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arya Stark squiring for Sandor Clegane</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knighthood

“Tend your horse by yourself. I'm not your stupid squire.”

The clout sent her headlong in the dirt.

“To be sure, you are not. _Stupid_ girls don't serve as squires,” he spat, “and I'm no bloody knight either. Now, see to the horses.”

Arya, half-propped on her elbows, held defiantly her own. “I'll tend to mine.”

“ _Your_ horse?” He yanked her back to her feet. “It was me who stole them damn horses.”

“I kept watch.”

“If they catch us, they'll hang us to the same tree, and won't give a piss you only _watched,_ or maybe they'll use a thinner hempen rope, but for a scrawny lump such as you it will work all the same. So be quick about it.”

She cast him a baleful glance, and sullenly took his horse's reins.

“Now, that's a good girl. Always care for your horses before you care for yourself. ” He unbuckled his sword belt, drew out a whetstone and sat on a gnarled stump, scabbard on his knees. “And never forget your sword.” When he was done with the honing, he grinned. “You were the fitting match for that shit of a king boy. You would have tamed Joffrey into eating out of your hand, and he would have gotten meeker than Emmon Frey to Lady Genna.”

It was getting dark. When the horses were finally unsaddled, watered, fed and hobbled, Sandor fumbled the saddlebags for their provisions, and gave her some hard beef.

“We cannot lit a fire, lest they see us.”

“We could as well turn into outlaws.” Arya chewed her lip, as she was wont when she was mulling over something.

“Bugger, who do you think we already are?” He snickered. “Do you expect I can turn up somewhere, and just say 'that's the Lady Arya of House Stark'? My face is not easy to forget, and the Queen would have my head, my brother as well, and what remains of your Northmen, nor the Riverlanders love me any better..”

He kept gnawing on a stringy strip of salt beef.

“I will kill you.”

“Will you, she-wolf? Neither you have elsewhere to go. Riverrun surrendered, Lysa Arryn was showed to the Moon Door, your sister is missing... Should I go on? You are the last of your pack.”

He unstoppered a wineskin and pulled a full draught.

“Real outlaws. Such as robbers.”

The Hound half choked on it and spat out a mouthful of wine.

“What for? It will only get us hanged sooner.”

“Not forever. Until we have got enough for a passage across the Narrow Sea.” She blurted. “Soon or late, we’ll get hanged anyway, if we don’t leave.”

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Until _I_ raise enough money, you mean, if I don't get killed beforehand. You are no longer of use to me; no one will ever pay your ransom, and I am half of a mind to get rid of your sputtering little mouth.” He unfolded his bedroll and tossed Arya hers. “I could stab you just now, but I'm too tired.”

She went on undaunted. “As you said, your face is not easily forgotten; mine is.” Arya paused. “I could be anyone. You still need me.”

“Stop it. I had my fill of fucking highborn ladies telling me what to do and all.”

“Don't call me that: I am no useless little lady. I know how to tend horses, how to clean an armour in a sand barrel;  you taught me how to dress a wound, and I can remember my lessons: stick them with the pointy end; I learnt what mercy is. I could squire for you.”

“Shut up.” Sandor Clegane's boot toe kicked her.

“You are as good as any, as far as knights go, and there is not a single thing Elmar Frey could do I couldn't do better. In the Disputed Lands, they are always looking for Westerosi knights, and there we could join a free company: they are not so picky. Knights have squires. I am yours.”

The Hound gave a hoarse laugh and rolled into his blanket.

Fuck. The wolf bitch could have the right of it.


End file.
